


Fair Won Prize

by Higuchimon, SilvorMoon



Series: Order of the Outcasts [4]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal
Genre: Advent Calendar 2016-2017, Catch the Barian Emperors, Chapter Set Boot Camp, Diversity Writing Challenge, Easter Egg Basket Advent 2016, M/M, Novella Masterclass Challenge, One Ship Boot Camp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-14 16:55:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10540635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Higuchimon/pseuds/Higuchimon, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilvorMoon/pseuds/SilvorMoon
Summary: Vector protects what is his, even if he just wants to ruin it himself later.  Mizael is his.  Even if no one else knows that yet.  Including Mizael.





	1. Chapter 1

**Series:** Order of the Outcasts|| **Title:** Fair Won Prize  
**Characters:** Seven Barians, OCs|| **Relationship:** Vector x Mizael/Mizael x Vector  
**Word Count:** chapter: 3,253||story: 3,253|| **chapter count:** 1/4  
**Genre:** Romance, Drama|| **Rated:** PG-13  
**Challenge:** Diversity Writing Challenge, I7, exactly 4 chapters; Catch the Barian Emperors (Mizael); Chapter Set Boot Camp, #34, 4 chapters; Easter Egg Basket Advent bonus #3, 1,000+ words written on a fic with 10,000+ to go for at least a week; Advent Calendar 2016-2017, bonus #2, Collect the Barian Emperors; One Ship Boot Camp, #5, feelings; Novella Masterclass, the AU Space  
**Notes:** This series takes place in a quasi-medieval fantasy world originally inspired by the concepts set forth in Advanced Dungeons  & Dragons roleplaying, but is not restricted by those concepts. They simply give it some of the foundation. This is a side story involving how a specific relationship between Mizael and Vector began, that would not fit into the main story but is relevant enough that I felt the urge to write it.  
**Other Notes:** This references non-con, but no non-con actually happens. The consent is not out of love, and can be viewed as 'benefits', but it _is_ consensual. There are also references to sex in general, but in vague terms.  
**Summary:** Vector protects what is his, even if he just wants to ruin it himself later. Mizael is his. Even if no one else knows that yet. Including Mizael.

* * *

It wasn’t much of a tavern, really. One room, a dozen or so tables scattered around, all of them battered and knife-scarred, and the chairs set before them not that much better. On one side a fireplace kept the room warm, or made a reasonably good attempt at such anyway. The chimney was in good enough condition that the smoke wended its way out of it instead of into the tavern itself. 

Vector sniffed at the sight of it, lip curling. “There isn’t anywhere better?” 

“Not around here,” Durbe replied, catching the eye of the tavern owner and gesturing him over. “And not that we could get to before that storm breaks.” 

“Are you sure it’s going to be a storm?” Vector wanted to know. He wasn’t pouting by any means; this place just looked like trouble waiting to happen. 

Vector had no problems with trouble. He just preferred to be the one starting it. 

“Gilag is and that’s good enough for _me_ ,” Alit said, hands on his hips. “You wanna argue about that?” 

Vector sniffed once again but subsided, for the most part. He followed the rest of the group over to the largest table, suitable for seven people only if they were close enough to one another. 

Vector made a point to sit next to Mizael. He’d made a point of doing that everywhere they could for the last three months, since they’d formed their little band of adventurers. For one thing, Mizael was the absolutely prettiest of the seven of them, and Vector saw no reason to deny himself an attractive view. 

Sitting here also provided him with the chance to remain hidden from most of the other people in the tavern, because they weren’t alone there. With Mizael in his sight and the various groups of thugs, mercenaries, and dimwits _out_ of his sight, Vector thought spending the time of the storm here might be tolerable. 

“What can I get for you fine folks?” The tavern owner asked once they’d settled in. “Gotta tell you, we probably don’t have what high-born folks like you are used to.” 

Durbe offered a smile. “You might be surprised what we’re used to. But a good round of ale should do for a start.” 

Mizael cleared his throat and Durbe chuckled. “I’m sorry. A round of ale for everyone else and if you have some sort of wine, my elven friend here would much prefer that.” 

The tavern owner peered at Mizael, who peered right back, head held up high and with a light tilt to his head, asking without words if there were some kind of issue to his presence there. 

“A genuine elf? We don’t get many of your – we haven’t seen too many elves around here in the longest time,” the tavern keeper declared. Vector did not like the sudden switch of words, nor did he like the way the keeper kept on staring. Granted, Mizael _was_ attractive, but he was also _Vector’s_. 

He just hadn’t gotten around yet to admitting it. But Vector had plans on that score. 

Before the tavern keeper could scurry off, Gilag raised his hand for attention. “Could you bring me some water?” His hand dropped back down, petting Ponta, and the keeper’s gaze followed that way, blinking at the sight of the tanuki. 

“O-of course, sir! I’ll be back right!” 

He hurried out of sight, eyes still a little round in surprise. The tavern just had one room, but a curtain hung in between the majority of the room and where he presumably kept his stock of liquor. They could hear him moving around back there, pouring out ale, wine, and water. 

“So you’re an elf.” 

Vector turned back to see half a dozen grungy guys, who looked as if they at best had a nodding acquaintance with a toothbrush and a comb, but probably hadn’t bothered to see a tailor about mending their clothes in some time. Patches and stitched up tears were all done in a very slapdash, haphazard fashion. But to make up for that, every one of them stood a minimum of six feet tall, with muscles on top of muscles, and they all wore nearly identical sneers. 

The one in the front, who’d spoken, had his eyes burning toward Mizael, who barely gave them so much as a look. Alit, however, grinned mischievously. 

“You’re an elf, Mizael? Why didn’t you tell us?” He reached over to poke at the blond. “Do we really know you, then?” 

Mizael rolled his eyes. “I would’ve thought the evidence would be obvious.” 

The leader of the intruders glowered at them both. “I was _talking_ to _him_. No one said you could interfere.” 

“You were talking _at_ him,” Ryouga said, his voice dangerously quiet. “I don’t think any of us are interested in a conversation with you.” 

Mr. Muscles – as Vector mentally dubbed him, for lack of neither knowing nor caring what his actual name might be – glared at them all, rolling his tattered sleeves up to expose his arms. “I wasn’t talking to you, either!” He took a better look at Ryouga, then started to laugh. “What are you, some kind of a _musician_? Get out of here with that kind of junk.” He turned his gaze back toward the others. “Can any of you put up a decent fight? It gets boring around here when the weather gets bad.” 

He sneered for a moment. “Well, any of you except the pretty elf and the _musician_.” 

The looks exchanged were quicker than lightning and ended with Ryouga rising to his feet. 

“Oh, no, I said not you!” Mr. Muscles laughed raucously. “I wouldn’t want to break your delicate hands!” 

Ryouga sounded more annoyed than anything else. “If you want a fight, you’re going to get it with me.” 

The whole bunch of toughs laughed even harder. Mr. Muscles shook his head and cracked his knuckles hard. “Well, if that’s the way you want it. Just don’t blame me when you can’t warble a tune or play an instrument anymore.” 

Vector leaned forward, a gleam of mischief in his violet eyes. “Let’s make this more interesting. I’ll wager a silver that Ryouga puts you on your back in under three hits… and that you never lay so much as a finger on him.” 

Mr. Muscles stared at Vector as if he’d never seen someone like him before. “You’ve gotta be joking! What, are you new?” 

One of his buddies leaned forward as well. “I dunno, boss, I think we should take his money once you’re done.” A greedy smirk twisted his lips. “I say we take _all_ of his money when you’re done.” 

Vector smirked right back at him. _I am going to kill you._ “Let’s see how this fight comes out first.” 

Mr. Muscles and Ryouga moved to the center of the room, Muscles’ minions moving the other tables and chairs out of the way to clear a space. Muscles flexed. 

“Remember, all the pain you’re going to have is your own fault. Don’t blame me for it,” Muscles declared. “Got it?” 

“Got it.” Ryouga looked more or less bored with the whole thing. Vector wondered where their ale was; it couldn’t take that long to pour out their drinks. 

Then Muscles threw a fist at Ryouga, a hit that if it had connected would’ve probably hurt most people. 

Ryouga stepped back and moved around, still looking as if this were the worst way to spend an afternoon he could think of, and not out of fear of being beaten up. 

Muscles snarled at Ryouga’s near-effortless dodge, and the three or four that followed. “Stop running away! You’re not fighting!” 

“All right, if you insist.” Ryouga shrugged before he powered one fist directly into Muscles’ chin, packed with every ounce of his strength behind it. 

Muscles blinked. His eyes slowly rolled up to the back of his head and he fell over, not moving. One of his toughs dropped down next to him, hand to his throat. Vector approved of killing a leader while he was down. Perhaps this one showed a little sense. 

Then the tough moved back. “He’s alive. He’s just out like a candle.” 

Vector mentally sighed. It was so hard to find good assassins these days. 

Then he smiled, looking at the rest of them. “I believe I won our wager. Hand over my money.” His eyes flicked from one to the other of them. “I think one silver from all of you will do.” And it would pay for their drinks, too, once the tavern keeper finally brought them out. 

Two of the toughs dragged Mr. Muscles out of the tavern while the one who’d spoken up before now started to count out pieces of silver. Vector recounted them openly before he swept them into a neat stack. 

“All right. The fun’s over, go away now.” He gave a little flick of one hand before he settled back into his dark cozy corner, quite satisfied with events so far. 

The tavern keeper hurried over, carrying their drinks on a tray, and settled it down on the table in front of them. “Sorry for taking so long,” he apologized. “But I heard what was going on and I didn’t want to get in the middle of it and mess your drinks up.” 

Ryouga shrugged, reaching for one of the mugs – which at leas looked clean – and tossing it back so fast Vector doubted that he even tasted it. “Sorry for any damages.” 

The tavern keeper only shrugged. “Bejt and his group do that kind of thing whenever there’s new people in town. I’m used to it. Your drinks are on me tonight, and just tell me when you want to stop.” He turned toward Gilag, mouth open to ask something else, and froze. 

Gilag set the bowl of water he’d been drinking from on their table, while Ponta peered up from where he held the mug of ale in his own paws. The tavern keeper blinked, rubbed his eyes, and then hurried out of sight, leaving them to their drinks. 

* * *

“I don’t care how much money he could bring in if he’s a real bard,” Bejt growled, staring into the spotted mirror and trying to decide how much of what he saw was because of the low quality of the glass and how much was from that one hit that ridiculous _musician_ landed on him. “I’m going to kill him and I’m going to have fun doing it.” 

One of his assistants reached as if to pat him on the shoulder and got a death-glare sharp enough to cut paper from his efforts. He pulled his hand back and managed a quick smile. “Of course you will, boss. Doesn’t matter how good they are, once they finish drinking the good stuff, they’re not gonna be going anywhere we don’t want them to.” 

Bejt grinned, showing a mouth that wasn’t nearly as full of teeth as someone without his lifetime of brawling would have. “That elf’s not going anywhere, not until I’m done with him. I’m going to have some fun and then when he’s nice and obedient, I know a _good_ place to sell him. He’ll make us enough of a fortune to last for the next twenty years!” 

“Are we sure this is a good idea?” One of his other assistants spoke up, a nervous twitch to one eye. This wasn’t surprising; Olan twitched about _everything_. “I mean, they’ve got horses. And one of them is a _winged_ horse. And all that armor. And weapons.” He shuddered, ducking his head. “They look like they know how to use them.” 

Bejt shrugged. “They wouldn’t be the first traveling mercs we’ve taken down. Won’t be the last, either.” 

“I don’t think they’re just mercs. I mean, _winged horse_?” Olan shuddered again, staring up at his boss. “I think they’re _heroes_.” 

“Yeah, right.” Bejt snorted. “The whole bunch of them don’t look like they’re together enough to kill a slug, let alone a dragon.” Heroes did things like that. At least they had in all the stories Bejt had ever heard. Killed dragons, rescued princesses from ravening monsters – or monsters from ravening princesses. He’d heard a lot of weird stories. 

But that bunch? A musician, a pretty elf, what looked like a priestess, some short kid with maybe half of Bejt’s own muscles and too much of a sense of humor for Bejt’s tastes, someone in armor who might’ve been a down on his luck knight, some guy who had even more muscles than Bejt did but spent his time talking to some sort of fuzzy raccoon thing, and that idiot in the back who never let anyone get a good look at him. 

That wasn’t what heroes were made out of it. Heroes had lots of _good_ armor and didn’t stop in places like this, no matter what the weather looked like. 

They might’ve thought pretending to be heroes would keep people off of them, but Bejt wasn’t most people. Once they had two or three rounds of the house special, they wouldn’t be awake enough to do anything at all. 

That brought his thoughts right around to the pretty blond elf. Elves lived a very long time, he knew, and he couldn’t help but wonder what that elf had done in his life and how much he could be taught. Bejt looked forward to keeping him for at least a few years. He’d need to get properly trained before he could get sold, in order to make the most money, didn’t he? Bejt hadn’t ever trained someone before, but it couldn’t be that difficult. Smack ‘em when they did what Bejt didn’t want them to do until they learned better, that was it 

It would definitely be a lot of fun. He looked forward to finding out just how much fun it was. He’d always had an eye for pretty faces of every kind, and there weren’t too many people prettier than an elf. He’d never had the chance to have one like this before, and he looked forward to finding out what it would be like. 

All he needed was another hour or so, and then he and the others would be set for life. 

* * *

Vector sniffed at the mug, then set it back down after taking a tiny taste of the ale. He’d never been much of one for drinking in the first place, at least not drinks that came from places like this. He wondered if it would be too much to ask if one of their mage-types could do something about the storm so they didn’t have to stay here at all. 

_We could get some decent food **and** drinks somewhere else. Maybe even a good bed._ He knew that being on the road didn’t entitle him to the comforts of home, but they could at least have some _comfort_ of some kind. 

He leaned his head back against the wall and winced at the shock of thunder that rolled on by a heartbeat later. No one else looked bothered by the rain at all. Gilag sat on the outside of the table, closest to the door, and from the way he kept looking out there, it wouldn’t have been too surprising if he got up to wander out there. Druids did things like that, soaking up the rain. Vector had no idea of why druids couldn’t invest in some kind of weather protection. Maybe it was a religious thing. 

He’d never wasted his time on religion and until he’d come to join this group, he hadn’t associated with religious types of any sort. But traveling with a druid and a priestess meant that he got more than he’d ever wanted of the whole concept. 

He let his gaze drift back to Mizael. He could think of one or two gods he’d like to thank for the creation of the elven race and for Mizael in particular. Along with one or two he’d consider offering up a tribute to in order to get the elf compliantly in his bed, without risking Jinlong having him for dinner or the rest of the group getting furious at him. 

Which meant he would have to keep on courting Mizael so that it was all willing on his side. 

He wasn’t used to having to _ask_ for what he wanted. Or who he wanted. He’d commented once at breakfast that he’d seen an attractive person the day before in the marketplace and that evening, that same person awaited him in his bed, courtesy of his father. 

That had been an enjoyable few months, all things considered. If it had been possible, or workable with his father’s plans, he didn’t doubt that he would’ve already enjoyed time with Mizael. 

_I think this might be more interesting, though._ Frustrating, but enjoyable in the end, once he’d achieved his goal. There was something to be said for getting something desired by hard work instead of being given it. 

Vector glanced to the others again, the sound of the rain battering against the side of the building, making it plain they weren’t going anywhere right now. He suspected Rio and Gilag would both insist that they shouldn’t try to mess around with the weather, something about natural causes and not interfering. That made no sense to him at all. What good was magic if you couldn’t use it to twist the world around to the way you wanted it to be? 

His eyes narrowed suddenly as he took in what was going on with his companions. He wasn’t surprised to see Gilag’s eyes drooping, let alone Ponta’s, not with that rain. If it didn’t call a druid out to dance in the rain or whatever, it would probably put them to sleep. 

But Ponta spent so little time being visible when they were in civilized territory that Vector almost forgot he even existed. There he was, having finished his ale – you’d think a magical creature would have better taste than that! - and now curled up on Gilag’s lap, sound asleep. 

Vector checked on Alit: already asleep. Durbe was as well, eyes closed and chest rising and falling evenly. Ryouga still had his eyes half-open, and Rio looked as if she were fighting off the urge to sleep herself. 

He looked at Mizael then, and knew something was wrong. 

_Elves don’t sleep. Not like that, anyway._ Mizael had explained it once, but Vector had been too wrapped up in admiring the way the sunlight glinted off the elf’s golden hair to pay attention. He sort of wished that weren’t true now. 

But Mizael’s eyes were as tightly closed as the others, even as Ryouga’s slid all the way shut, and Rio followed him into slumber in another few moments. 

This wasn’t right in the slightest. Vector’s thoughts raced before he chose his path, closed his eyes, and let himself sag a little more, as if he’d succumbed as well. There wasn’t any use in trying to wake them up. They’d be too sluggish to do anything for too long. Not to mention, Vector had a feeling he knew who was involved in this, and he swore he’d paint the walls with their blood. 

He couldn’t see what was going on, but after what felt like forever, he could hear footsteps entering, and a sense of shadow fell over him. He kept himself from moving, no matter how much he wanted to, and listened. 

**To Be Continued**

**Note:** And now we return to the world of the Order of the Outcasts. This is that little interlude piece to explain something. A larger piece revolving around Yuuma, Kaito, Haruto, and Astral will come at a later point, on SilvorMoon's profile. But until then, I hope you enjoy this.


	2. Chapter 2

**Word Count:** chapter: 3,193||story: 6,334|| **chapter count:** 2/4

* * *

Mizael wasn’t entirely asleep. He could taste something wrong in the drink, and he hadn’t taken much of it. He’d considered asking for something else, but slowly and surely, his eyes began to slide together, and he couldn’t quite seem to make words anymore. So he stayed where he was, presuming it would burn off sooner or later. 

He’d never had beer before. It wasn’t something that appealed to most elves, though he’d known some who enjoyed it. Elves differed in their tastes just as humans did, though perhaps not as widely or as often. 

So only when he managed to grasp vaguely that almost everyone else at the table was also drifting away into slumber did it click into his mind that something aside from taste buds were at fault here. 

He could hear footsteps coming toward him. They weren’t familiar, and sounded more like heavy-nailed boots than anything else. He couldn’t be certain of how many there were, only that they came closer, far more so than he wanted, especially now that he couldn’t defend himself. Every instinct he had urged him to get up, to call Jinlong, to just get away from there. 

But not a single muscle moved as he wished it to. He strained his ears, hoping for some detail that would stir him up enough to get out of there. What he heard certainly got him angry, but not enough to move. 

“You’re right, brother.” That was the tavern keeper. “They’re definitely worth a lot of money. I know a few people who could use a good minstrel. Maybe that one there could be a gladiator. He looks tough enough for it.” 

There was a low bark of laughter. “Wonder if he’s an escaped gladiator. Doesn’t Spartan City have an arena? Take him back there and see if he’s worth anything extra?” That was the one that Ryouga laid out in one punch. 

“That’s a long way from here,” a third voice, slightly more brittle and precise. “I know one or two cities not that far from here that have an arena and are always on the lookout for good fighters.” 

“The big one would probably do for a hard laborer. Looks like he’s done plenty of that, and he’s definitely not suitable for anything else.” The tavern keeper judged. 

Mizael tried to work his fingers, hating them so clinically discussing how to dispose of them. But it worked through his head what the problem was: they’d been drugged. Likely a sleep potion, which was why it hadn’t worked so well on him. If he could just get his lips and tongue to work, just to say one word, just to say _Jinlong_. 

But he couldn’t. Not so much as a whisper. 

“Looks like she’s a priestess. Those are tough to sell anywhere.” The clinical voice spoke on that score. “Any suggestions?” 

“If I’m right, she’s a water priestess. So, send her to the desert? There’s a couple of sects out there that can keep her under wraps and probably retrain her, too. They pay good money for new recruits.” The tavern keeper opined. 

“And I know a few places the other two would score a lot of money at,” his brother declared, a smirk in his words. Then Mizael heard him coming closer. “But this one I’m keeping for myself for a while. I bet he could use some good training...and he’s too pretty for anything else, anyway.” A raucous noise that Mizael guessed shoud be a laugh. “Can’t wait to see how much fun he’ll be!” 

Given how many of the others he’d mention, Mizael found himself certain that this person was talking about _him_. He tried to twitch and still failed. 

Then he could feel a hand on his hair, slowly stroking it. 

“It’s like silk!” The muscled man declared. “Like living silk.” 

“You’ve never touched silk in your life,” the tavern keeper laughed. “But if you say so.” 

Again the other stroked and Mizael began to detail out how many parts he’d shred this fool into once the drug wore off. 

“Let’s get them out of here.” The would-be slaver tilted Mizael’s head up. “Can’t wait for you to wake up, pretty.” 

“Neither can I. I don’t think he’s going to like what you’ve been saying about him.” 

_Vector?!_ Mizael managed to pry his eyes open the tiniest but, just in time to see a slice of silvery blade in between him and the man touching his hair. For a moment there was absolute silence, then something small hit the table between them. 

And then there was an all-mighty roar of pain and rage. “You cut off my hand!” 

“It was where it didn’t belong,” Vector said as he rose up to his feet. Mizael dragged his eyes open just a little more and saw Vector had his sword ready. “In fact, none of you has any right to touch him – or any of us – in any way whatsoever.” 

“You don’t have the right to cut off people’s hands!” The tavern keeper squawked. Vector turned toward him. From the way they were standing, Mizael couldn’t see the keeper all that well. He didn’t really need to. 

“I have the right to defend myself, and since my companions aren’t available to do it – thanks to you – to defend them as well.” 

Then Vector’s voice dropped low and only an elf’s keen hearing enabled Mizael to hear what came next. 

“ _Especially_ since you dared to lay a hand on _him_. I heard what you had in mind. That will _never_ happen.” 

It took Mizael a moment or two to make the connections. They’d all known that Vector wanted him, but he’d kept himself more or less polite, making the occasional compliment, offering small gifts of things Mizael liked. 

Vector wasn’t at all a nice person. They knew that, too. But just the fact he’d kept himself polite and restrained put him head and shoulders above _these_ folk in Mizael’s opinion. 

All of that took less than a heartbeat to flick through Mizael’s head. In the next moment, Vector surged forward, sword darting here and there. These people weren’t fighters at all, weren’t used to going up against someone trained in multiple forms of combat like Vector. 

Mizael found himself wishing that he could see exactly what Vector was doing, aside from slicing their would-be assailants into small pieces. He didn’t love carnage all that much but he did rather enjoy seeing people who’d caused harm to others getting their just desserts. 

* * *

Soon enough the last of them dropped, and Vector turned back to the others. He tilted his head to the side, considering what to do next. No one seemed in any real danger, and they’d probably sleep for a little while longer. Only here wasn’t the most comfortable place to sleep. 

Slight motion caught his eye and he spied Mizael trying to move. The elf wasn’t doing a very good job of it, but he tried anyway. His eyes seemed a fraction open and he twitched a finger. 

He also had blood in his hair, from where Vector first de-handed the fool who’d touched him. Vector kept his hands to himself, trying to ignore the urge to wipe it out. 

Instead, he moved closer and leaned down. “Mizael?” 

The ranger breathed in an unsteady breath, eyes still not all the way open and what Vector could see of them remained foggy and unfocused. Vector worked his way around to where he could get hold of Mizael, and started to work him out of there. The others would be fine; Mizael was waking up and would be annoyed at the blood more than likely. Plus, he would need someone to help him clean up this mess. 

People were so rude, failing to die in a clean and neat fashion. If they’d known who he was, they likely would’ve fallen all over themselves trying to avoid his anger. 

They rode on the edges of Don Thousand’s lands, after all. And the son of Don Thousand commanded respect. 

But that would’ve risked all the others knowing exactly who he was, and Vector didn’t want that. 

He managed to get Mizael out of the tavern. The storm had passed by now, and the sun edged closer to the horizon, throwing long fingers of shadows over the land. It looked like it would be a pleasant evening, and more so if they got to spend it somewhere that wasn’t here. It would depend on how long it took everyone else to wake up. Vector sadly decided that would be much later in the evening. Far too late for it to be worth riding onward. 

A stream wended its way behind the tavern and he helped Mizael there, finding a place low enough for both of them to splash their faces in an attempt to wake up, and get some of the sweat and blood of battle off of Vector. He still wouldn’t touch Mizael without permission. 

But then the ranger looked up at him, his eyes clearer and more focused now. “Can you get that out of my hair?” He gestured toward the streaks of blood still there. Some had landed on his face as well, now cleared away by the water, but he’d need more effort to get to his hair. 

Vector lifted his hand warily. Mizael gave him a harsh look. 

“I said, could you get that out of my hair? You don’t have to act as if I’m going to bite you if you get too close.” 

Vector’s lips twitched and he started to work on getting the blood out, tearing a piece of shirt off to do so. He needed to get it out of there before it dried, otherwise they’d need either magic or some kind of proper soap to get rid of it, and he doubted Mizael would want to put up with _that_. 

“I think that should do it,” he said at last. He did what he could not to think a great deal about how close he was to Mizael and how much he enjoyed being close to Mizael. He _wanted_ him; he’d known that since their first adventure together. He’d wondered at times if he’d get what he wanted if he had to take this long way around. 

So being so close to Mizael, and Mizael agreeing to let him do things for him, wasn’t something he was all that used to. 

The sun drew closer to the horizon, darkness falling softly all around, as the two of them made their way back to the tavern. 

“We should’ve noticed something,” Mizael grumbled. “It’s a little too far from t here.” He indicated the closest village with a jerk of his head. “Most taverns are in the middle of town.” 

Vector shrugged. “The rain.” He hadn’t liked the storm then and he didn’t like it now. Well, he liked it a bit more because it had moved on, even if it were too late for them to leave already. 

Mizael surveyed the tavern and shook his head. “Unless we plan to move them all out of there, they’re staying in there for the night. And so are we.” 

“We are?” Vector turned to stare at him, not entirely certain that he’d heard that correctly. “Why?” 

“Because this tavern might be the only one around here, which means some of the locals could be involved in this.” 

The smile on Mizael’s face reminded Vector that this man not only belonged to the forest and the wild creatures thereof, but his truest companion was a dragon. 

Vector liked that. 

“If they try anything, we’ll be there to explain to them not to.” 

Vector liked the sound of that, too. 

“You have some good ideas now and then,” Vector praised. Mizael said nothing for a few moments, his gaze thoughtful and distant. 

Then he tilted his head back and spoke a single word that echoed into the night. 

“Jinlong.” 

Sudden cold sweat leaped into existence up and down Vector’s back. He didn’t dare move, though. Mizael would want to know where he was going, and he didn’t want to say anything about how much he disliked the giant dragon, who swept down from the skies and perched himself in front of Mizael. 

“Yes?” 

Vector couldn’t hear what Mizael said, and from the accents he _could_ pick up, he wouldn’t have understood it if he did. He knew two or three languages, but the language of dragons wasn’t one of them. 

Jinlong rumbled back at Mizael, eyes shifting over to Vector, who stared back at him. He didn’t like the dragon, he didn’t _trust_ the dragon, and he wanted nothing at all to do with the dragon. 

But he also dared not show fear of the dragon. He waited for Mizael to finish, admiring the slope of his shoulders, the freshly scrubbed gleam of his skin, and the way the sun set Mizael’s hair off so beautifully. He could gaze at such a view forever… 

Then Jinlong spread his wings and leaped back into the air, vanishing out of sight in a matter of moments. Mizael came back closer to Vector, a pleased smile on his lips;. 

“So what was that about?” Vector wanted to know as they started back to the tavern. 

“I wanted him to know he shouldn’t eat you tomorrow. Or any other day.” 

Vector blinked a few times at that. “I didn’t know that was something you had to remind him of.” He didn’t think he liked hearing that, either. 

“I don’t. But I suspect he might need a reminder in the near future.” 

Vector hadn’t fully wrapped his mind around what Mizael said, until the other caught his arm and met his eyes. 

“You’ve been trying to court me.” Mizael said. Vector frowned; why bring this up now? But he nodded and the ranger continued. “For the moment, I accept your courtship gifts, with the acknowledgment that this isn’t a permanent mating, and either of us can end it at any time, for any reason whatsoever.” 

Again that took some time for Vector to process. Then the side of his mouth quirked. 

“So, friends with benefits?” 

Mizael sniffed at that. “I wasn’t aware that we were _friends_.” 

“So, just benefits.” 

A long, heart-felt sigh fell from Mizael’s lips. “If you’d rather not take this seriously...” 

“I do.” Vector reached to take Mizael’s hand in his own. “I’ve never courted anyone before. If you want to just… entertain each other, that’s fine.” 

So far as Vector truly cared, _he_ would decide when they no longer shared a bed, and that would be when he got bored with Mizael. As attractive as he was, he couldn’t imagine losing interest any time soon, especially since there was so much else to learn once this relationship achieved a level of intimacy. But there wasn’t any way he would tell Mizael that. He could have more fun with him like that. 

He tightened his hold on Mizael’s hand, and Mizael returned the grip before looking into his eyes. For a few moments they stood there like that, then Vector leaned forward and pressed his lips against Mizael’s, thoroughly enjoying the sweet taste and the way Mizael returned it, their arms sliding around one another. 

A soft, startled cough came from the tavern and both of them turned to look, arms still entwined about one another. Gilag stood in the door, rubbing his eyes, staring at them. 

He stood there, staring at both of them, then turned and marched back inside, closing the door behind him. His voice floated through, clear as if he hadn’t done that. 

“I didn’t see anything.” 

Vector chuckled, still entwined around Mizael and not inclined to move at all. “Because there’s hardly anything to see.” He shot a quick look back into those lovely blue eyes of Mizael’s. “Whenever you’d like to change that...” In his opinion, that couldn’t come too soon at all. 

The side of Mizael’s mouth lifted up into an amused twitch. “Not here. And not if they’re waking up.” 

Vector started to pout; they’d already begun so nicely and now Mizael wanted to be prudish about it? 

“It would be much more comfortable in a proper bed,” Mizael pointed out, much to Vector’s minor relief – and still annoyance, since he should’ve thought of that first. “And with the proper supplies.” 

Oh. Right. 

He sighed and made himself step away from that lovely embrace. “All right.” They’d probably reach a suitable bed the next night anyway. He could wait that long. Even though he didn’t really want to. 

Mizael stepped briskly into the tavern itself, Vector by his side. What first met their eyes was Gilag, checking the small fireplace, and the rest of their team still sound asleep. 

“How are you feeling?” Mizael wanted to know. 

“Still a little sleepy, but I’ll get over it.” Gilag shrugged as he picked the kettle there up and headed for a half-hidden back door, emptying it into what was probably some sort of trash pile. “Since they’re out of it,” he said as he came back in, “looks like I’m going to have to put together some kind of a dinner.” 

Mizael nodded, glancing around at the poorly stocked supplies on display. The former tavern keeper clearly specialized only in what could be drunk, none of which any of them trusted anymore. 

“I think we have some things I can cook in the supplies,” Gilag muttered, heading out that way to check. He didn’t seem to be avoiding them, but he was also not exactly looking at either of them either. 

Mizael checked on the group again, hints of concern that Vector didn’t find all that appealing in his eyes. He said nothing, though. He might’ve won Mizael – to some extent – but the other wouldn’t stop caring about other people. How annoying. 

At least, he reflected as he made rounds around the room, this meant that Mizael would also care about him. And the idea of what the others would do when they woke up and found out what happened amused Vector quite a bit. He imagined so many scenarios where they simply stood, jaws hanging, while Vector thoroughly and intensely kissed Mizael and Mizael kissed him, and then matters turned to far more than just kissing… 

“I don’t think they’ll wake up until later tonight. Maybe not until tomorrow.” Mizael broke into his fantasies without warning. Vector bit off a sigh and headed over to him. 

“But they’ll be all right?” Gilag asked as he entered, bags of their supplies in his arms. Mizael nodded. 

“As near as I can tell. I don’t know enough about healing or drugs to judge anything else.” 

Gilag nodded himself. “Well, Ponta and I know a little bit about that, and as far as I can tell, they’re just asleep.” 

Vector lounged himself against the nearest wall. “So that gives us tonight all to ourselves.” He wasn’t looking at Gilag, who hurried over to get dinner going and muttered something about sleeping outside with Ponta and the horses. 

That suited Vector _just fine_. 

**To Be Continued**

**Notes:** The actual intimacy will happen in chapter four.


	3. Chapter 3

**Word Count:** chapter: 3,114||story: 9,445|| **chapter count:** 3/4

* * *

“Excuse me, what did you say again?” Durbe didn’t look as if he could yet convince himself that he’d actually woken up and heard what he did. 

Vector loved playing with people like this. He wrapped his arm around Mizael’s shoulders and leaned closer to him, ignoring the way Mizael rolled his eyes. 

“I said, Mizael finally agreed to my courting and we’ve agreed on a relationship.” 

Rio stared over at the pile of empty cups they’d drunk from the night before, then looked back at Durbe and Gilag. “I suggest we test whatever’s left to find out what _else_ was in those drinks aside from that sleeping potion.” 

Ryouga looked quite as if he wanted to agree with his twin. Instead, he gave Mizael a very firm look. 

“Is he telling the truth?” 

Mizael pushed Vector away – successfully, after trying two or three times – and stepped forward. “He’s leaving things out. Such as this isn’t _romantic_ at all and is far more in the way of conveying my thanks for his actions last night. It’s also in no way permanent. Either one of us can cancel it at any point.” 

Vector held back a smirk. He would let Mizael think that for now. Now he put a pout on his lips. 

“I _was_ rather heroic last night. I’m sure you can put it into a song, dear Ryouga.” The pout turned into a smile that was a hair’s breadth from a smirk. He waved one hand ever so dramatically. “There you all were, sound asleep and completely vulnerable to anything and everything those beasts wanted to do to you.” 

He recited everything he’d heard on their plans, saving Mizael for last, letting his words linger over those schemes. He did not miss the sudden fury boiling in Alit’s eyes at what would’ve been his own fate, nor how it was flavored with sorrow. Something to keep in mind for the future, he thought, before returning to his recitations. 

“Then that one idiot dared to lay a hand on Mizael here,” he said, gesturing so his fingers brushed by the ranger’s hair, but didn’t touch it. His every action he chose to make it clear how _different_ he was from those fools who’d never heard of asking for anything. 

Not that Vector himself especially liked asking or that the would-be slavers would’ve ever gotten a ‘yes’ in the first place. 

“I decided at that point, it wasn’t worth being amused by their idiocy anymore.” With a flick of his fingers his knife was in his hand once more. He admired the edge of it, which would need a bit of sharpening before he used it again. “And I cut his hand off.” _No one touches what’s mine. Even if Mizael didn’t know he was mine then._

“And you got blood in my hair,” Mizael pointed out. Vector tsked at that. 

“I helped you get it out, didn’t I?” 

“You killed all of them.” Durbe observed. “So where are the bodies?” 

“We dragged them out there,” Mizael said, gesturing with one graceful hand. “And I asked Jinlong to set them on fire.” 

“It was very beautiful to see,” Vector added. He toyed with the tip of his blade. “Though some of the locals tried to wander by. They didn’t stay long.” 

Ryouga groaned, leaning back in his seat. “Tell me you didn’t kill them too. They haven’t done anything that we know of...have they?” 

Mizael shook his head. “They didn’t stay long. They took one look at us sitting there and left.” He turned a look toward Vector. “I don’t think Vector playing with his knife and my hair at the same time inclined them to want to stay and talk.” 

“I didn’t want them to stay and talk!” Vector defended himself, widening in his eyes in the best indication of innocence he could manage. “You’re right, though. They didn’t do anything to us, so they might not have been in on what was going on.” 

He didn’t know if that were true or not. But he had ways to find out before much longer. 

“So with all of that, you decided that Vector could be an acceptable… companion?” Durbe reached the point he clearly wanted to be at the most. 

“I’ve known those who would be worse,” Mizael acknowleged, and Vector let himself smile broadly and openly this time, stealing another caress to the side of Mizael’s neck now. With their bargain made – if not fully consumated yet – then he let himself take a few more liberties with Mizael. Small ones, but only ones that he knew Mizael would agree to. 

Durbe sighed, leaning his head back on the wall in mimicry of Ryouga, who just shook his own head. 

“You don’t need our permission for this,” Ryouga said, “but I’m glad that you let us know.” 

Ponta peered up from Gilag’s lap and giggled, an eerily human sound. “Because if you hadn’t, one of you would probably take his head off!” 

Vector shot the tanuki a very annoyed look. As always, though, Ponta didn’t even seem bothered by it. Instead, he licked a paw and curled himself back up, while still watching everything with far too wise eyes. 

Vector didn’t like Ponta. He’d always thought the magical creature knew far more than it possibly should have and that was something he preferred to no one else but he did. 

But there wasn’t any real way to say that right now, so he turned back to the group as a whole. “Now that you know, I think we should head on to the next city. Some place with a good inn we can spend a night or two in.” Or three or four. “Just to make certain all of that drug’s cleared out of you all.” 

He didn’t think he fooled any of them on that score. He’d not hidden his desire for Mizael for a moment since conceiving it. He wasn’t surprised when Alit buried his face in one hand and shook his head. 

“I didn’t need to hear that. I didn’t _want_ to hear that. I don’t want to know anything at all about it.” He lifted up his head and turned to Rio. “Can you make sure no one hears anything they do?” He turned toward Durbe and Gilag. “Or one of you? Please? Some kind of… I dunno, a silence spell?” 

Vector snickered. “Do you really think we’re going to be that loud?” He would make a special point of it, just to annoy them all, spell or no spell. Not only would it annoy them if it didn’t work, but if it did, he’d know how loud he could get Mizael to be. Sometimes the best victories were personal ones. 

“I don’t want to know if you are,” Alit pointed out. Gilag, Rio, and Durbe were already muttering to one another, even as Ryouga got up and started for the door. 

“I’ll check on the horses. Be ready to go soon,” he said. All of them nodded; they did have a job to do farther along, and as much as Vector looked forward to his personal triumph, he wanted to get that taken care of as well. 

* * *

Mizael knew quite well that he hadn’t made anything like a perfect choice, but one thing remained clear: if Vector hadn’t been there and been awake, then right now he’d likely be in that slaver’s bed. He knew and trusted his own skills, but he’d been at least mostly asleep, unable to properly defend himself. He had no idea of if the other would’ve been able to restrain him in a way he couldn’t get out of or not. 

At least, he reminded himself, Vector remained honest about what he wanted. He restrained himself from touching Mizael in any way except which Mizael allowed, even if he did do that much more frequently now that they’d made their bargain. 

He wasn’t at all the best, but he wasn’t the worst, and Mizael _owed_ him now. Honor meant a great deal to Mizael, as it did to the dragons who’d raised him, and he would repay the debt in the only fashion he knew Vector would accept. 

In the long run it wouldn’t make much of a difference in his life. Vector was human; Mizael wasn’t. A thousand years from now, Mizael would still roam the lands, free as only a dragon-trained elven ranger could be, and Vector would be little more than a passing memory. Perhaps one softly thought upon from time to time, depending on how their trysts went. 

That was part of what he’d spoken of with Jinlong when he’d called him the first time the night before. Jinlong reassured him that dragons had done the same thing in the past. That was how some human and dragon hybrids now existed, or dragon and elven: sometimes even elven and human. A deed worthy of such a bargain wasn’t common, but Vector’s actions came under that heading. 

Vector’s fingers touched the side of Mizael’s arm and he turned toward him. 

“Ryouga says we’re ready to go.” Vector gave him a thoughtful look before he leaned over and touched his lips to Mizael’s. Vector was, amazingly, a good kisser, one with plenty of practice. 

Mizael returned it, not surprised to find Vector sliding his arms around him and holding him close. Vector was warm and strong, and Mizael thought it wouldn’t be hard to get used to him. 

* * *

The next proper inn, the kind of place that not only had good beds, a place where they could all get good meals and good drinks that weren’t going to put them into any unwanted sleep – none of them really wanted to touch any sort of ale again for quite some time, regardless of how clean they knew it was – and where they could repack their supplies wasn’t for another three days of travel. 

Vector restrained himself. They stopped at inns along the way, but none of them had what everyone else wanted: privacy. Putting up a group of seven, plus horses, wasn’t something most village inns could handle, and certainly not in individual rooms. 

Even with Mizael having accepted the courting and their arrangements more or less worked out – they dealt with small details as they came along, most of which included Vector not actually touching him that much – Vector could hardly wait for the actual consummation of the bargain. The fact it would include intimate relations – sex – had been implied and agreed upon from the very beginning. 

_I saved his ass, so now I get to have it._ Vector held back a snicker. He really wanted to say that out loud, but the various annoyed looks that got shot his way whenever he opened his mouth lately kept him leashed. 

To a degree. He had _so_ many plans set up for when he and Mizael finally took that step. No one would be able to ignore him then. 

“Looks like we’ll be staying in Deepflower tonight,” Ryouga said, checking the map he kept. “Tomorrow we can finally cross the border and we’ll be on the high road to the Echoing Woods.” 

“What is it we’re supposed to do there again?” Alit wondered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I can’t keep this stuff straight.” 

Vector wondered if Alit even knew how to read. From what he knew of the ex-gladiator’s history, it wasn’t likely. Good enough excuse to not know where they were going. 

“The Echoing Woods are inhabited mostly by dryads,” Gilag said, turning his gaze in that direction. Ponta lifted his head up as well, watching the way the wind blew. 

Or something. 

Gilag kept going. “There are also stone spirits and a dwarven city in the area. Someone is robbing the city and all the signs are that magic is involved.” 

“So we’re going to find out how and fix it up,” Alit said, nodding and stretching his arms out to work out the kinks. “Sounds good to me.” 

“It’ll take us another few days to get there once we’ve crossed the border, so Deepflower is where we’ll restock it all,” Ryouga said, rolling up the map and tucking it away again. He cast a glance toward Vector, who rode beside Mizael, as always these days. He looked as if he wanted to say something. Vector inched closer to Mizael, a quick slash of a smirk across his lips followed by an anticipatory look at the ranger. 

Ryouga held back whatever he had in mind to say and started down the road one more time, the rest of the Order of the Outcasts following behind. 

_Score one for me,_ Vector praised himself, stealing another look at Mizael as they rode. _And tonight I’ll score even more._

* * *

The Golden Griffon was, without a doubt, the best inn in Deepflower. It had a lot of competition; Deepflower was one of the hub cities of the kingdom, where all manner of traders, travelers, and merchandise of every sort made its way from here to the various points of the kingdom and to many other kingdoms as well. Situated beside a swift-flowing, wide river that led to the ocean, from there one could go almost anywhere, and have supplies bought to make the trip that much easier. 

With that much traffic, it wasn’t surprising at all that the team had a wide selection of inns to choose from. Vector made that choice this time, though. 

“I’ve been here before,” he said, riding directly for the Golden Griffon and the familiar welcoming staff. “They know how to treat _everyone_ like royalty.” 

He could use a little pampering before they got back on the road for the serious business of saving people who couldn’t save themselves. He rather thought they all could, no matter who would admit it. 

The owner of the Griffon knew exactly who he was, of course, and knew better than to speak of it to anyone else. He simply bowed low the moment he came out and saw who his new guests were. 

“A pleasure to see you again, your worship,” the owner murmured, head bent respectfully. “Do you have any special requests today?” 

Vector wrapped an arm around Mizael and pulled him close. “I’ll take the Grand Suite for the two of us, and have it well stocked.” He waved his other hand toward the rest of the group. “We’ve been shoved together enough on this trip. Individual rooms for everyone else.” 

The owner glanced up, eyes going from one to the other of them, and Vector wasn’t at all surprised to see a gleam of greed there. He would be well rewarded for his services here and he knew it. 

“As you wish. Would you like to eat in your rooms or in the main dining area?” 

“Main dining area?” Durbe murmured, probably to Ryouga. “Most inns I know just call it the common room and be done with it.” 

“Upscale place,” was all Ryouga said in return. Without looking, Vector had a feeling that the bard had his lute in his hands, idly checking the tuning. He had a habit of doing that whenever they were in a new situation. It helped make people ignore him as less of a threat, which meant he could watch what was going on and be ready to step in when necessary. 

Vector hadn’t fallen for it, not once. But he had always had insider information anyway. 

He focused his attention right now on the innkeeper, and enjoying the mildly startled look on Mizael’s face. 

“We’ll eat in the suite. It’s much quieter.” He glaned at Mizael. “You don’t mind, do you?” He really hoped Mizael didn’t. He had one more order to give in regards to dinner. 

Mizael shrugged. “I don’t care, as long as we eat.” 

Perfect. Vector returned his attention to the owner. “I’m in the mood for the fourth special tonight. It’s still the one from last time, isn’t it?” 

“Of course, sir!” The owner bowed again. “Also, the bathing facilities are empty at the moment, if you’d care to make use of them.” 

Vector let out a very satisfied sigh at that. “I think we will.” 

* * *

There were two sections to the bathing facilities. One for the usual sort of guests and the one that Vector led Mizael to. Both of the sections had the exact same features and were built to the highest of quality. But the one Vector wanted had something that the other one didn’t: absolute privacy. No one was going to get in there without passing by the guard on duty and having been granted permission by whoever used the facilities at that moment. 

Vector made it clear that he didn’t want _anyone_ else in there unless armageddon happened, and maybe not even then. He could think of few better ways to spend an apocalypse than with Mizael in his arms. 

Not that there was one planned to happen any time soon that he knew of, anyway. 

Mizael glanced around, a slight frown tilting his lips. Vector understood the ranger far better than some might’ve expected, and stepped up to enfold him in his arms again. 

“It’s a little different from what you’re used to, isn’t it?” he murmured. The bathing room here was as wide as the tavern they’d stopped at with the would-be slavers, tiled in cool blue and pale green, with one large pool sunk into the floor. Warmed towels hung over a silver-wrought rack and lovely scents arose from the pool itself. 

Another rack awaited their clean clothes, while a basket of finely woven reeds covered in silk awaited their laundry. Part of the service included all of their dirty clothes washed, dried, and mended, then returned to them. 

Mizael didn’t move away from him, something Vector found pleasing. “Yes,” was all he said in response, though, and Vector nuzzled against him. 

“We’ll only stay as long as we need to in order to rest up and get the supplies,” Vector promised. Overwhelming Mizael with sensual pleasures – of all kinds – wouldn’t work very well. He simply enjoyed the wilds too much. 

But a small immersion in this luxury would please Vector himself quite a bit, and it was long past time that he and Mizael consummated their bargain, in every kind of way. 

He started to fiddle with his clothes. He knew exacty what kind of supplies the innkeeper would provide, and where they would all be. This wasn’t even close to his first time bringing a new lover here for their first tryst. 

And he so looked forward to introducing Mizael to every bit of sensual pleasure imaginable. 

**To Be Continued**

**Notes:** Next chapter is the last one, and that's when they do it. It isn't graphic at all, so use your own judgment.


	4. Chapter 4

**Word Count:** chapter: 3,178||story: 12,622|| **chapter count:** 4/4

* * *

No one said very much until they were all in the bathing facilities. Alit muttered under his breath something under his breath that no one could quite hear clearly, but he didn’t sound very pleased in general. Gilag took a long look at the facilities and sighed as he got ready to clean up. He likely would’ve preferred a lake of some kind to these, Ryouga mused, getting himself ready as well. 

As far as he was concerned, and he suspected Durbe as well, given their shared past, this reminded him just a fraction too much of home. Enough so he could appreciate it, enough so that he wished they weren’t here and he wasn’t thinking about it. 

He could imagine Rio felt the same way on her side, where they weren’t allowed to go. Very strict in some ways, this place was. 

But sooner or later they all settled in to wash, and once the aches and pains of riding began to soak out of them, they relaxed. And it was Alit who said what hovered in the back of everyone’s mind to some extent. 

“Are we supposed to be trusting Vector with this? How do we know he’s not going to… I don’t know, do something?” He waved one hand in the air to convey everything that his words couldn’t. 

Durbe scrubbed at his shoulders thoughtfully. “He hasn’t done anything to hurt any of us before. I don’t think he’s going to start _now_. And if he does, I think Mizael can manage him.” 

“If he doesn’t have plans to manage Mizael first,” Alit muttered, sinking until only his head remained out of the water. “That’s kind what I’m worried about.” 

“I don’t blame you,” Ryouga agreed, through the noise of busily washing his hair. Alit couldn’t help the occasional peek; not only was Ryouga a generally attractive specimen of humanity, but Alit hadn’t ever seen him with his hair absolutely soaked. It was kind of an interesting look, really. But then the bard kept talking. “But Mizael’s good at what he does, and he has a good head on his shoulders.” 

Durbe chuckled, a soft, amused sound. “He also has a dragon. If he gets into anything that he can’t handle, Jinlong will help him.” 

Ponta splashed through the water, floating on his back in the next moment. “He wants the ranger very much. But he hasn’t taken what he wanted until the ranger agreed to it.” 

True enough words. Whatever other plans Vector had – and none of them were so foolish to think that Vector, connected in some way to their employer that none of them fully knew – didn’t have plans of  < _some_ kind, they didn’t involve assault of that kind. 

Seduction, more than likely, but not assault. 

Ryouga ducked his head under long enough to wash the shampoo out of his hair and resurfaced with a loud noise that Alit couldn’t help but laugh at. He laughed even more when Ryouga gave him a very annoyed look about it. 

“What kind of a sea creature sound was that?” The ex-gladiator wanted to know. Ryouga grinned, his teeth flashing in the magically created lights. 

“When I was a child, my nickname was _Shark_.” 

Alit blinked. “What’s a shark?” 

* * *

“May I touch your hair?” Vector despised asking. He wanted to take what he wanted and have it as long as he desired it, but when dealing with five skilled fighters of various disciplines, a winged horse, a creature that just _was_ magic and could do too much for his personal comfort, _and_ a dragon – perhaps especially the dragon – then he had to ask. 

But as he’d observed before, it made getting his desires that much more satisfying, and even better, people wouldn’t try to take what he craved away from him when he’d been given it freely. For a small sacrifice, he got much, much bigger rewards. 

Mizael considered him for a few moments before he nodded, and Vector lost no more time. He ran his hands carefully over Mizael’s hair, still damp from the bath, and shivered. 

“That fool was right about one thing,” Vector murmured, stroking over and over, slowly sliding his fingers deeper into the strands of living gold. “Your hair is like silk. Only better.” 

Mizael leaned further into Vector’s touch, making a somewhat contented noise. Vector kept on stroking, and with his other hand, turned Mizael’s face toward him, moving forward to kiss him. 

He’d kissed Mizael many times since that incident at the tavern, savoring each one. Kisses when they woke up. Kisses before sleep or going on watch. Random kisses throughout the day. Not all of those kisses were on the lips: only those that others might see. When it was just the two of them, Vector indulged them both by finding new places to rest his lips. 

Now he pressed Mizael closer to him, neither of them with a stitch on, the long length of the elf’s body so warm against him. Dinner would be there soon, but he wanted an appetizer first. 

His kisses wandered downward to Mizael’s chest, then up again, hands beginning to roam away from Mizael’s hair to play with his strong shoulders, then tease at his hips and legs. 

Vector found himself a little surprised at Mizael’s own actions a brief moment later. The ranger not only returned the heady, intoxicating kisses, but slipped his lips downward to rest at the hollow of Vector’s throat, his tongue flicking out to caress there repeatedly. 

No one had ever tried anything like that with him before. All of his other trysts focused on him enjoying himself with the use of whoever shared his bed. Very seldom had they tried anything new with him, but only obeyed whatever orders he gave them. 

Mizael wasn’t much of one to take orders, he’d learned, and part of his anticipation had been to train that out of him. 

Now, as Mizael teased and nibbled there, and pleasure Vector hadn’t experienced before stirred, he considered a different approach. 

He didn’t consider it for long, mostly because Mizael started working his lips and tongue and a bit of _tooth_ on his neck, and Vector didn’t find himself able to think about anything very clearly for quite some time. 

When he got his thoughts working again, he stared into one of the mirrors in the bathing area, touching the part of his neck where Mizael did his work. 

“What is that?” It was like a bruise and it would stay there for a while. Mizael shrugged. 

“It’s like something dragons do. It’s similar to a mating bite, but it doesn’t mean permanence.” His teeth flashed in a sudden smile. “I’d have to draw blood for it to be _permanent_.” 

Vector wondered for a few moments if he should’ve done research on how dragon relationships worked, as well as what checking he’d done for elven ones. Mizael was an odd mixture of the two, and somehow different from both of them at the same time. 

He couldn’t say that he didn’t like it. What was rare as well as beautiful appealed to him, and Mizael fit that category easily enough. 

He touched the mark again. He would have to return this favor, something that told all who looked at Mizael that he belonged to Vector, be it now or be it forever. 

He would think about it. It would have to be just right. 

A quiet tap on the door interrupted his thoughts. He knew what that was: the alert that dinner had arrived. Pulling a robe on, he went to get it, pleased now that he could take more control of the situation. Having Mizael willingly join in was a fresh thrill he appreciated, but he’d planned this once he realized their first tryst would take place here in the Gryphon. He wanted Mizael to enjoy this as much as he did. 

It was a quick trip up to the suite they’d occupy for their time here and he kept one arm around Mizael the whole time, releasing him only when they arrived in the main room, where a delicious set of aromas arose from the covered tray awaiting them on a low table. A single lounge rested on one side of the table and he guided Mizael there, both of them settling down on it. The lounge, like everything in this suite, had been arranged to be perfect for two people to entwine around one another on it. 

And like that, the dinner was exactly what he’d ordered: the lovers’ meal, everything cut into small pieces, suitable for sharing between two, and arranged so that one could feed the other, every bit of it designed to please and tempt the diners. 

Not that Vector needed tempting very much. But he picked up a cut of meat he knew Mizael enjoyed and offered it to him. Seeing the ranger accept it, eating from his hands, sent a jolt of raw pleasure through Vector. He couldn’t wait to see it again and reached for another. 

Mizael beat him to a piece, however, setting it against Vector’s lips. Vector had somewhat expected this, after Mizael’s earlier actions, and licked it before taking in his mouth, making sure his tongue brushed over Mizael’s lips when he did. 

Piece by piece they fed each other dinner, stealing kisses and touches in between, and sipping from the shared cup of wine – imported from Kuragari, and not often seen outside of the royal household. 

Vector had _many_ privileges. 

* * *

Mizael wasn’t at all inexperienced in acts such as this. He’d never met someone that he wanted to stay with for longer than a handful of years, and to one of his blood, that meant nothing at all. 

Vector wouldn’t be any different. A handful of years, if even that – the meat of their bargain was more or less that they’d continue in this vein either until one of them chose to end it or until they both agreed that the debt Mizael owed to Vector was paid in full. That, of course, was something only Vector could decide though Mizael had his own thoughts on what would constitute full payment. 

Given that in effect, Vector saved him from what could’ve been an entire lifetime by _elven_ standards of enslavement, then it could indeed be that handful of years. 

Only time would tell that. And now time had nothing else to say, leaving Mizael and Vector to soft touches with a hint of an edge to them, and the slow removal of robes to reveal more and more skin that could be and was peppered with teasing kisses and the brush of fingers and tongues, pleasure mounting between them with the friction of flesh against flesh. 

Mizael found himself at one point hoping that there was either some kind of silence spell such as the others had discussed, or enough space between here and there that no one could hear anything anyway. He wasn’t always noisy with his lovers, but Vector wasn’t inexperienced either, and soon enough the first waves of sensual delight hit their peak for both of them. 

Once everything eased enough so they could talk, Mizael cupped himself around Vector and stared into those so mischievous eyes. 

“It was worth waiting for,” Vector said before Mizael formed a question. He played one hand through Mizael’s sweat-streaked hair. “And to think it’s only just begun.” 

Mizael slid his own hands through Vector’s orange-red locks. He didn’t hunger for the human like Vector so clearly hungered for him, but it _had_ been a long time since he’d sated those desires. Long before he’d met Ryouga and Rio and Durbe, in fact. 

“How long did you plan to stay here?” While no one had said, they were clearly here on Vector’s schedule, even with the mission they had ahead of them. They’d lost one day’s worth of travel but they weren’t on much of a schedule. 

Vector closed one eye and twisted the side of his mouth. Mizael didn’t help his looks all that much. “I’d rather like to stay a couple of months, but I think dear _Ryouga_ -” He said it as if the name offended him, a taste to it that Mizael had never heard him use before, “would probably want to be on the trail again at dawn.” 

Mizael couldn’t argue that point. But he didn’t think he’d be up to riding after the night Vector clearly had in mind. “Three days,” he offered. “Long enough for all of us to rest from everything.” 

Vector smiled a slow, sensual smile and then slipped out from the couch, rising to his feet and offering Mizael one hand. “I think in three days, I might be ready to leave.” 

Mizael took the hand and was pulled to his own feet. Vector turned them both toward the bedroom, one arm again pulling Mizael close. They stayed that way until Vector lowered Mizael to the bed and joined him, hungry lips taking kiss after kiss, on Mizael’s lips and everywhere else that Vector could find that would bring any sort of enjoyment whatsoever. 

Vector knew very well how to please a lover, and how to show his lover what he enjoyed as well. All through the night he and Mizael learned more and more about one another, with the seemingly infinite resources of the Golden Gryphon at their disposal. Vector found him a quick study and their evening rolled onward. 

* * *

Vector let his thoughts drift, Mizael resting in his arms. He’d seldom felt this sated, even on other occasions when he’d brought a new lover to the Gryphon and enjoyed all it offered him. Perhaps it was because of how much effort he’d put into winning Mizael here in the first place. Or perhaps it was because Mizael was the first elven lover he’d ever had. 

As for that, if all elves were like Mizael when it came to wanton pleasures, Vector knew a few places he’d recommend to recruit among the fae people. The Pearl Whistle came to mind. Nearly as fine as the Golden Gryphon it was, though it focused on matters other than simply lodging guests in royal splendor. 

Once he grew bored with Mizael, and he and his father had their other plans brought to fruition, perhaps he’d have him installed at the Pearl as well. He could still visit him on occasion if he desired, and Mizael could hardly complain about the luxurious food or the splendid accommodations or the work he’d do. The Pearl’s employees weren’t common harlots at all, but serviced the highest ranking folk in the land, and infrequently at that. Great generals and even some heroes – carefully chosen so they would not be offended by being granted time at the Pearl – were sent there at Don Thousand’s command only. In between times, the king himself sometimes would call one to his quarters. Vector’s own mother still lived at the Pearl, forever honored for having given Don Thousand a son and his only heir. She wasn’t high enough in birth to be his official bride, but he favored her with his attentions still. 

_I won’t send him there for a long, long time, though._ It would take years for the plans to all be accomplished, and maybe even more for him to grow weary of Mizael. The ranger proved very inventive and possessed of even more stamina than Vector imagined. 

And until that day _did_ come, he could enjoy himself with Mizael whenever he desired. He rested now. Dawn would come soon, and he looked forward to a full day of Mizael’s undivided attention. 

* * *

Ryouga, Rio, Durbe, Alit, and Gilag waited outside of the Golden Gryphon’s doors. Early morning sunlight already gleamed off dew-dampened grass. They’d been awake since before the sun crested the horizon and all of them wanted to get moving. 

“Aren’t they done _yet_?” Alit grumbled. None of them had seen or heard a thing from Mizael or Vector since they’d arrived here and Vector swept Mizael off to what they’d later been told was the finest suite in the entire hotel. They’d received one message alone, stating today would be the day they left, and after that, nothing at all. 

They all knew what the two were doing, and once or twice, they’d heard hotel servants whispering about it, about how beautiful Mizael was and how lucky he was that Vector – though they never called him that without prefacing it with _m’lord_ \- chose him. 

Alit hadn’t been able to keep a straight face around most of the servants after hearing _that_. 

Other bits and drips of news concerning Vector and his previous visits here made them all a little wary for how long this ‘tryst’ might last and what Vector might do when it was over, but aside from warning Mizael when they had some time to do so, there wasn’t much else that they _could_ do. 

Finally a door opened and Mizael stepped out, every inch well rested and relaxed, and wearing his usual riding gear. Vector was only a step behind, every bit as relaxed, and with the most satisfied smile on his face any of them had ever seen. Alit kind of wished he wouldn’t smile like that. It creeped him out. 

“Good to see you,” Durbe said, nodding toward both of them. “I trust matters went well?” He was the soul of discretion, Durbe was. 

Vector flashed a grin at him, one that spoke of mischief as always. “Absolutely perfectly. We’re going to stop in here on our way back, of course.” 

Ryouga just rolled his eyes. “Come on, let’s get going. The more time we can make, the better.” 

Soon enough the small group headed down the road that led away from here and on to their mission. No one wanted to ask any more details from either of them. Especially not after Vector rode close to Mizael, entwined an arm around Mizael’s waist, and pulled him in for a deep kiss that Mizael returned. Perhaps not with as much enthusiasm, but returned all the same. 

They also didn’t ask about the fresh love-bites on both of them. Alit _really_ didn’t want to know about _that_. It was all Gilag could do to keep Ponta from asking questions that he didn’t want to know: the questions or the answers. 

For long days after they left the Golden Gryphon, whenever they stopped at an inn of any size, Vector always made certain to get a private room for himself and Mizael, and the next morning, he always had the same smug, satisfied smile on his face. 

But no one heard anything, because by then they’d perfected a spell of silence, and no one complained about it at all. Least of all Vector. 

He had so many plans, and he needed the occasional tryst with Mizael to relax himself. The future was right in his grasp and he would need someone to share it with. Mizael, he considered, might be a good choice. 

**The End**

**Notes:** Someday soon (uh, maybe in 2017?), there will be another story in this world, involving what Yuuma and some of the non-Barian people are doing. Until then...


End file.
